Chapter 50: The Ambush

"A peerless talent, truly deserving of your reputation." With this final assessment, Mo Da turned and left.

With the affairs of Hengyang City concluded, Wang Jingyuan turned his attention to his own agenda. First, he headed to the butcher's shop. Upon seeing Wang Jingyuan, the butcher retrieved Tian Boguang's severed head from the back room.

A few days prior, Wang Jingyuan had failed to find a military household capable of tanning a human head, leaving him with no choice but to seek out a butcher skilled in curing preserved meats. The butcher wiped the head clean with a cloth, placed it before Wang Jingyuan, and said calmly, "Since it isn't for consumption, I cured it with toxic salt. To ensure his facial features remained recognizable, I first pickled it in brine a few times to set the shape, and only then applied the toxic salt and preservatives."

Wang Jingyuan took the head. Indeed, it bore an eighty percent resemblance to the man in life; clear effort had been put into it. Placing the head inside a box, he glanced at the butcher: "None of the others would take my job, yet you volunteered. At first, I assumed you were simply in need of silver. It now appears you, too, have a story."

The butcher fished a cloth bundle from beneath the cutting board, felt around inside, and withdrew a ingot of silver, placing it before Wang Jingyuan. Wang Jingyuan recognized it immediately—it was the very same silver he had previously given the butcher.

With a placid expression, the butcher said, "That evil scion passed through Hengyang City many years ago... This humble person will never forget the great kindness and profound virtue of Hero Wang. It's just that I chopped up his corpse and fed it to the dogs, failing to fully execute your instructions. I am unworthy of this silver."

Wang Jingyuan paid the ingot no mind, simply picking up the wooden box and turning to leave: "I told you to dispose of his corpse properly, and hasn't that precisely been done?"

Leaving the butcher's shop, Wang Jingyuan proceeded directly to the residence of Battalion Commander Chen. The elderly servant of the household, likely having received instructions, recognized Wang Jingyuan upon sight and led him straight to Commander Chen.

Commander Chen was sitting in his study sipping tea, and Wang Jingyuan stood on no ceremony. Walking over, he poured himself a cup: "Old Chen, drop some good stuff on me. Let me witness your capabilities."

Old Chen's efficiency was remarkable. Wang Jingyuan had visited him in the morning and set out by the afternoon, even accounting for a leisurely midday meal at the Huiyan Restaurant.

Studying the small slip of paper Old Chen had given him, Wang Jingyuan strode out through the gates of Hengyang City.

...

Not far from Hengyang City lay an official post road, alongside which stood an inn. An inn established in such an isolated location, miles from any village or town, was almost certainly a shady establishment. However, the proprietor of this particular inn possessed a rather astute mind; whereas everyone assumed an inn situated in such a place must be a den of thieves, he was determined to run an honest business.

Through years of accumulated reputation, many passing travelers had come to realize that a legitimate inn existed here. Consequently, this establishment had become the prime resting choice for wayfarers traversing the region.

The members of the Mount Qingcheng Sect were currently dining here. Everyone else was eating quietly and dutifully, but Yu Canghai remained glued to his reading, turning the pages of the *辟邪剑法* (Cleansing Evil Sword Manual) in his hands, intently pondering the secret manual.

Given his pale complexion and the blood-shot whites of his eyes, it was evident he had attempted to forcibly cultivate the *辟邪剑法* numerous times over the past few days.

He was not someone like Wang Jingyuan who possessed cheats; lacking the necessary prerequisites to practice the sword manual meant facing only one recurring consequence: repeated deviations into madness.

"Honored guests, your dishes have arrived." The waiter placed the dishes ordered by the Mount Qingcheng Sect on the table one by one, right in the center of which was an urn of chicken soup. Yu Canghai flared his nostrils, catching a whiff of medicinal fragrance emanating from the broth.

He called out to stop the waiter: "What did you add to this chicken soup?"

The waiter answered honestly, "Yesterday, a medicine merchant passed by and thought our chicken soup tasted exceptionally good. He gave our proprietor some top-quality restorative herbs, saying that adding them to the chicken soup would enhance the flavor and provide restorative benefits. He gave us some to try first; if passing guests find it agreeable, we can purchase more from him the next time he passes through."

Yu Canghai ladled a bowl of the chicken soup and sniffed it. Indeed, there was no strange odor—only common tonic herbs used in traditional Chinese medicine. Taking a slight sip and holding it beneath his tongue, he felt no discomfort whatsoever.

Instead, he felt his body grow slightly warm, accompanied by a faint surge of vital energy and blood. It seemed the waiter spoke the truth; this genuinely was a fine restorative tonic.

Having vomited a fair amount of blood recently while trying to comprehend the sword manual, being able to drink a bowl of chicken soup to recuperate struck him as an excellent idea. During this meal, Yu Canghai ate very little of the dishes, but filled himself to the brim with chicken soup.

With several bowls of chicken soup down his throat, Yu Canghai's body indeed warmed up, and the hollow sensation within his body felt considerably filled. By nightfall, Yu Canghai felt he was once again in prime condition, so he sat cross-legged on the bed and retrieved the sword manual for contemplation.

The moment he attempted even a brief practice session, that familiar sensation surged back into his heart. A mouthful of aged blood spewed forth—whether due to the recent tonic or not, this spray of blood soared high and traveled far.

Yet that was not the end of it. Previously, once he stopped practicing, the state of deviation into madness would quickly subside. Today, however, was different; the chaotic, rampaging internal Qi within his body not only refused to calm down, but intensified, completely spinning out of control.

At that exact moment, Yu Canghai heard a muffled thud, and a gray shadow lunged toward him from outside the door. Under normal circumstances, he could easily have evaded it by shifting aside, but right then his internal Qi was utterly uncontrollable, rendering dodging impossible.

The gray shadow pierced straight through his chest, causing Yu Canghai to vomit a large quantity of blood mixed with fragments of his internal organs. Bracing himself with sheer willpower, he struck his own acupoints to staunch the bleeding.

Staring fixedly toward the door, he saw a figure dressed in night-walker attire, their face covered in a black cloth, push the door open and step inside. More importantly, the intruder was carrying a crossbow in his hands.

The newcomer was, of course, Wang Jingyuan. Before his departure, the small slip of paper provided by Old Chen had detailed the Mount Qingcheng Sect's return itinerary. Although the Jinyiwei under Commander Chen's command practiced some martial arts, they still fell far short compared to martial artists of the jianghu.

Asking them to crouch atop Yu Canghai's bedroom roof in the dead of night to eavesdrop was perhaps expecting too much. However, the members of the Mount Qingcheng Sect simply loved discussing matters while dining.

Thus, the return itinerary of the Mount Qingcheng Sect had wound up directly in Wang Jingyuan's hands. As for whether this intelligence might be a false rumor deliberately leaked by Yu Canghai, Wang Jingyuan cared not in the least.

If it were false, he would simply wait for the next opportunity. Even if Yu Canghai could run, surely he couldn't up and run while cradling Mount Songfeng Abbey in his arms, could he? Fortunately for Wang Jingyuan, his luck was good, and he successfully ambushed the Mount Qingcheng Sect on the very first try.

Seeing Yu Canghai sitting on the bed, struggling desperately to support his body as if he might collapse at any second, Wang Jingyuan dared not relax his vigilance in the slightest. In this day and age, games with even a sliver of hardcore difficulty featured countless instances of bosses feigning death or staging fake surrenders.

Back then, when he was crouched atop the carcass of the Gypceros gathering materials, the wretched beast had suddenly sprung back to life, nearly scaring him out of his wits. As for that bastard Red-Assed Macaque, it went without saying—and to think Wang Jingyuan had actually thought it triggered some special storyline!

In a flash, the bow in Wang Jingyuan's hand vanished, and instantly, another crossbow already loaded with a bolt materialized in his grip. He pulled the trigger without hesitation.

This shot struck straight toward the lower abdomen. Lacking any ability to resist, Yu Canghai was once again shot straight through. Standing from Wang Jingyuan's vantage point, one could actually see Yu Canghai's intestines churning within his lower abdomen; only then did Wang Jingyuan's heart ease slightly.

Closing the bedroom door, he pulled over a chair, sat down, and spoke in a muffled voice: "Why didn't you cry out?"

Yu Canghai cast a gloomy, frigid gaze at Wang Jingyuan: "Had I made a sound, I fear the heritage of Mount Songfeng Abbey would have been severed here. Speak your terms—what will it take for you to spare my disciples?"